


Circle Daddy

by Green_Sphynx



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Anders Whump, Daddy Kink, Emotional Abuse, Hurt Anders, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Sexual Abuse, in which Irving became rather messed up from a life locked in a tower as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 19:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18610834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green_Sphynx/pseuds/Green_Sphynx
Summary: Anders has a talent for getting in trouble in the Circle, so Irving has a special punishment developed just for him.





	Circle Daddy

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags, there is nothing healthy about the relationship depicted in here at all

“Oh Anders… I would’ve thought you would be too old for this by now.”

 

“I _am_ too old for this now.”

 

Anders glowered from his perch on the low stool that Irving had placed in front of his desk just for him. Anders had only ever seen the stool brought out when Irving had a small apprentice in his office for a scolding, but Anders had long outgrown the size of it.

 

Irving still took it out for him, putting it in front of the desk where Anders would have to sit on it awkwardly, feeling small under Irving’s scrutinising gaze.

 

“You hardly act like a grown up, Anders. For someone who passed his Harrowing years ago, you certainly still act like a rebellious teenage apprentice.”

 

Anders’ lips curled in disgust, trying to hold back on a snarky response that would only prove Irving’s point.

 

No, screw holding back. “Maybe it has something to do with being treated like a kid who got locked in his room for having magic.”

 

Irving tutted at him disapprovingly.

 

“And I didn’t even do anything this time!”

 

“So you would like me to believe Enchanter Torrin’s robes froze themselves to his chair, hm?”

 

“Whatever. I didn’t do it.” Anders crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his chin up defiantly. The whole posture was ridiculous with his knees at the height of his chest and his face far below Irving’s disapproving frown.

 

Irving gave a long suffering sigh before slowly pushing away from his desk, getting to his feet like the old man he was. He walked over to a tall cabinet on the side of his office and spoke without looking at Anders. Anders already knew what he was going to say. Knew what he was going to fetch.

 

“You know you should be grateful that I like you so much, my boy. Although I suppose it’s because I love you like you were my own son that you are so rebellious and disobedient.”

 

Anders struggled to keep his face angry, rather than expressing the feeling of dread curling its cold fingers around his stomach.

 

“But you should know how much I do for you. If it wasn’t for me, you would have been made Tranquil by the Templars for your unruly nature, rather than being allowed to take on the Harrowing. If it was up to them they would lock you in the dungeons for every misstep you made.”

 

Anders wasn’t looking, but he heard the swoosh of a thin object streaking through the air, the sharp slap of it hitting skin. Irving testing his chosen implement of punishment.

 

The click of the cabinet closing had Anders swallow heavily.

 

“Regardless, I can not let you go unpunished, as you well know. If you act like a child, you shall be punished like one.” Irving walked up to him and gave a weary sigh from behind him. As if _he_ was the troubled one, not Anders. As if he was doing a chore here.

 

“Stand up, Anders. Hike up your robes and grab your ankles.”

 

Anders was shaking lightly when he obeyed the orders, clambering upright from the low stool clumsily and pulling his robes up around his waist. With a deep breath to steel himself he bent over, grabbing his ankles while his robes pooled down in his armpits, exposing his naked lower half to Irving.

 

“Tell me Anders. Why am I punishing you?”

 

Anders felt the light tap against his still pale, still soft bum. The first tap to aim.

 

“Because someone got a freak accident and I happened to be nearby.”

 

The cane whistled through the air and landed with a sharp sting on Anders’ backside. He couldn’t suppress a sharp yell, shortly followed by him shrinking in on himself, writhing as the pain truly landed a second after the blow.

 

Irving patiently waited for him to resume his proper pose, resting the cane against his arse again.

 

“Anders?”

 

“I didn’t do anything!” He protested weakly, words punished by another hard swat of the cane.

 

By the fourth Anders’ voice was watery, his eyes burning with unshed tears and his arse like it was on fire.

 

“O-okay I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please stop!”

 

Another sharp crack of the cane and Anders had to bite off the wail that escaped unbidden.

 

“You know that’s not what I want to hear, Anders.”

 

“I’m sorry, _daddy_.”

 

“That’s better.” Irving crooned, and Anders was rewarded with a hand softly rubbing his backside rather than the next blow of the cane. The rough old skin made it feel all the hotter, more painful, but it also made his cock twitch with treacherous interest.

 

“You will get ten more as punishment. You will count them, Anders. Properly.”

 

“T-ten? Please, Irv-d-daddy, I can’t-” Anders whimpered and trembled, fingers folding and unfolding around his ankles. He did not disobey by letting go, that would make it so much worse, _but the idea of ten more of these_ … Irving wasn’t holding back at all!

 

“Be a good boy, Anders, and it will be over quickly.”

 

There was nothing quick about it.

 

Every time the cane came down and the pain cut through like a knife, it took Anders longer to force out the count and even longer to stop twisting his arse out of the way as far as he could without leaving his position. He had both his hands clamped over his burning red butt, striped with raised red welts, by the fifth.

 

“Just imagine what would happen if it wasn’t me, Anders.” Irving’s tone of voice was soft and gentle, fatherly even. “I love you as my own, maybe even more. If it wasn’t me, it would be the Templars whipping your back instead of me giving you these mild punishments.”

 

Anders sobbed, unable to respond with anything other than a wet and pathetic ‘thank you daddy’.

 

He hated thanking Irving for this. He hated being grateful for this humiliation. But Irving was right. If Irving hadn’t taken such a shine to him, the Templars would be whipping him down in the dungeons right now, and they wouldn’t let him cry it out later or even let him sleep in his own bed tonight.

 

Irving would.

 

Irving let him count to ten, even if the last number was barely recognisable anymore in his heaving sobbing and wailing. But Irving wasn’t a monster and he accepted even that messy attempt at obedience. Irving was a kind man, a good father, who gently helped Anders upright from his cramped position and tugged him over to the other side of the desk.

 

Irving bent Anders over the desk next, but he was only muttering soothing words now, praises of what a good boy he was. There was no more cane, no other implements to torture Anders with any further. When his robes were hiked up again and tucked under him on the desk it was only for a hand covered in a cool elfroot balm to gently rub over his arse.

 

There was just one thing left, and that wouldn’t be so bad.

 

A finger pressed into him, spreading the elfroot balm inside his arse with deep, smooth strokes.

 

“What have you learned, Anders?”

 

“I-I’m so sorry daddy, I’ll be better now,” he cried, voice only slightly steadying now the caning was over. It wasn’t helping that Irving’s finger made a bee-line for his prostate, rubbing against him to make his knees quiver all over again.

 

“You’re such a good boy, Anders.” He felt Irving ruck his own skirts up and he pressed his thighs against Anders’. He could hear the old man’s voice drop to something guttural as a hard erection pressed to Anders’ hole.

 

“You’re daddy’s good boy.”

 

 

 

At least the last part never took long.


End file.
